


Nazi being a stinky goblin but ironically

by AllegedlyAlan



Category: Jreg, The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Gen, House Cleaning, Jreg makes me worried sometimes, Just bros being bros, platonic authunity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28155000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegedlyAlan/pseuds/AllegedlyAlan
Summary: Y'all know which video inspired this.Please, Greg, at least get rid of the mold.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 32





	Nazi being a stinky goblin but ironically

**Author's Note:**

> tw: There's some depression talk in case that makes you uncomfy.
> 
> The authunity in this is platonic but it isn't but it kinda is :/  
> Once I figure out how to write in cursive on ao3 it's over for you bitches >:)

„I know I said I won’t judge you, but holy fuck…“

„I am also happy to see you.“ Nazi replies with a cold glare, but then his expression softens and he just looks tired. He lets go of his usual perfect posture, leaning against the doorframe. And wow, he looks like he’s one leg in the casket already. His usually pale face now looks just sickly, the dark circles under his eyes match his eyecolour almost perfectly. His hair is a mess. He combs it back most of the time, but now it lifelessly falls into his face. He’s wearing a very worn-out „Macht und Ehre“ t-shirt and shorts with a ketchup stain on them.

Pushing all that aside, Commie smiles. Although he never thought he’d ever say this, he’s happy to see his authoritarian counterpart. Lately, Nazi has been missing out on most of the extremists‘ meetings, and knowing his mental health history, Commie felt like he needed to check up on him. 

Turns out Nazi hasn’t left his apartment for at least a week. While Commie had limited knowledge of how depression works, he was pretty sure that living in a literal dump didn’t help. And while he was no therapist, he was an authoritarian after all, especially one that was used to sharing space with others. The least he could do was help Nazi get his living space in order.

Commie takes off his shoes automatically, so Nazi just steps aside and lets him in.

And wow, living here would make anyone unstable.

As a leftist, Commie believed that things like poverty aren’t always the person’s fault, especially when not doing mentally well. He wasn’t judging Nazi, he knew the man well enough to know he wasn’t lazy or messy. But why did the rightist own so many chairs?

„This is why landlords are the root of all evil. They should be paying you to live here.“ He comments, pointing to the ceiling. It looked oddly moist, especially in the corners.

Nazi retraces his gaze.

„Oh, that happens every winter.“

„That’s probably mold. It’s near the outer side of the house and this room has no windows, you’d have to ventilate it multiple times a day.“

„I don’t even eat that often.“

Nazi’s serious face makes the joke fall flat.

When he notices his friend’s disturbed face, he laughs. 

„I’m kidding. Do you, uh, want something to drink before we start?“

„That would be wonderful, thank you.“ Commie replies and purposefully doesn’t follow Nazi to the kitchen. He doubts he would be able to drink whatever Nazi offers him if he were to see the state of the kitchen.

„Oh, I only have water and some… What day is it?“ Nazi shouts from the kitchen.

„Fifteenth of December.“

„How long past the expiration date can you drink something?“

Commie sighs and steps into the kitchen. Nazi is standing near a fridge, holding up a plastic bottle with some white liquid. There are lumps on the surface.

„That is definitely spoiled, comrade. Water is fine.“

Nazi glances over the sink (full of dirty dishes, some of them still have food in them that is now molding), then moves his gaze to some of the mugs still on the shelves. He takes one, but the greasy dust won’t come off, so he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a plastic cup. After he fills it with water, he hands it to Commie. The man downs it in one gulp, an attempt to get the image of Ancom charging at him with an enviromental protest sign out of his head.

„Thanks. So, where do we start?“

Nazi shrugs.

„How about the bathroom? We will probably need it later, so we should clean it out first.“ Commie suggests.

And so they start there.

Even with his lack of motivation, Nazi is suprisingly efficient. Commie’s backpack is full of cleaning products, gloves and trashbags, so they are currently squatting in the bathroom. The rightist is working on taking down the already-slimy-and-smelly shower curtain while Commie has taken on the Sisyphean task of scrubbing the bath. Suddenly, he grins.

„Do you have a sister?“

„No, why?“

„Well then, I guess this place hasn’t always been this bad… I mean, you even got up to something in here…“

Nazis stops what he’s doing and turns to the other man.

„What?“

Commie has a smug smile on his face and a really disgusting and smelly clump of something in his hands.

„There is long hair in the drain.“

Nazi’s eyes go wide.

„God, put it somewhere else!“ he yelps and looks like he’s about to throw up.

Commie starts laughing, but then he shows some mercy and flushes it down the toilet.

„That must have been in there from the previous tenants.“

„Jordan Peterson would not be happy.“

„I hate Jordan Peterson.“

„Good, me too.“

They’re only done with the bathroom when they get hungry. Or, to be precise, Commie does. Nazi has probably gotten out of the habit of, you know, processing food a few days ago.

„Okay, so what do you want?“ Commie asks as he is dialing the number of the nearest pizza place. Nazi shrugs, then points to a random number on the website.

„Alright.“

As the leftist is placing their order, Nazi goes to take a peak into the bathroom. Commie has relocated them to the kitchen temporarily because of the bleach he put on the black mold growing in the bath tub.

The air is cold (they opened the window) and smells like chlorine. It reminds him of pools or public bathrooms. Despite his former state of mind, he does not want to poison himself there (the irony of it pretty much being a modern gas chamber makes him crack a lopsided grin).

To be honest, he still can’t quite believe this is his bathroom. Sure, the lightning is still pretty crappy, the mirror is cracked and he is currently lacking a shower curtain, but they really did wonders here. For the first time in months, the laundry basket is empty, most of it either in the washing machine or waiting to be washed next to it. Commie even insisted he stops washing himself with dish soap. To be fair, that would probably explain why his bedsheets crunch with dead skin cells everytime he lies down in bed (he does that more often than he gets up, somehow).

He can’t help himself: he smiles at himself a little in the mirror. It has been a while since he felt… useful? Needed? Whatever this is, it’s nice.

The feeling is especially amplififed when the doorbell rings.

Bonus:

„You didn’t tell him that I have rats in there, did you?!“

„Calm down, I only told _quem_ that the rats are migrating to your apartment from your neighbour because your landlord is shitty and won’t fix the hole in the wall. Calm down, Ancom lives in a commune, qui has seen far worse.“

„Oh, you shouldn’t have said that. If you called the rats „migrants“, Ancom will want to cuddle them. Integrate them. Convert to their religion.“

Commie has no time to come up with something less xenophobic because of a silhouette on a bike that appeares on the street.

It’s Ancom. Qui only has one hand on the handlebars, quis left hand is doing something in the basket tied to quis bike. The anarchist doesn’t bother with brakes – qui just jumps off the bike, leaving it to fall to the ground, scoops up something from the basket and wraps it in quis green hoodie.

Before Ancom can ring the bell, Nazi is already opening the door. Whenever him and Ancom meet, he likes to shake his head disapprovingly (while qui spits on the ground or flips him off), but today qui is here to help him so he tries to be nice.

„Hey.“

As soon as he speaks, there is a loud hiss and Ancom jerks, the bundle in quis hands shakes and a black paw reaches out, claws scratching Ancom’s (already scarred) hands.

Qui looks down.

„Shh. He’s a friend. Kind of. Not really. But still, don’t scratch me.“

Then qui looks up.

„Oh, hi. Sorry, fae can smell fascists.“ Qui smiles with fake innocence.

„Is that a _cat?_ “

„Yup. Tankie said you want to get rid of some rats, so maybe fae could help you.“

„You named her _Fae? _“__

__„No no, fae is faer pronouns. Faer name is Anarkitty.“_ _

__Nazi’s eyebrows are already almost touching his hairline, but before he can start a rant about cultural marxism, Commie appears behind him._ _

__„Oh, hello Ancom! It’s kind of you that you came.“_ _

__„Oh no problem, I am glad you called me. Anarkitty needs some adrenaline. Also, thanks for calling me and not Anpac. The commune is already full of animals he refuses to kill. Yesterday I had the munchies and wanted to steal some pickles, and suprise suprise, the jar wasn’t the pickles jar, it was his spider jar. Ew. He even made them little holes in the lid for breathing and tried to convert them to veganism and…“_ _

__Nazi and Commie look at each other amusedly. Not only is Ancom ranting again, but they can absolutely imagine the Anarcho-Pacifist nursing spiders. Also, Anarkitty is now unceremoniously chewing on one of the hoodie strings._ _

__When Commie jokingly joins his palms in a praying-like gesture, like Anpac (and old people) always do, Nazi actually laughs out loud._ _

__Ancom stops stalking. Commie is afraid he’ll have to explain they are not laughing at quem, but qui has an amused smile on quis face._ _

__„You two look like an old married couple.“ Is all qui says before shimmying between them and disappearing in the kitchen._ _


End file.
